


A Vision Too Removed to Mention

by irisbleufic



Category: Toy Soldiers (1991)
Genre: Boarding School, Inspired by Music, M/M, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Someone caught us in the kitchen</i>
  <br/>
  <i>with maps, a mountain range,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>a piggy bank,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>a vision too removed to mention</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Vision Too Removed to Mention

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jasmasson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmasson/gifts).



> (The sections of this piece are subtitled with lyrics from Iron & Wine's "The Trapeze Swinger.")

  
**Happily**  


Billy broke the rusted lock with a pair of bolt cutters and forced the ancient door open. For an instant, Joey's fancy got the better of him. This was probably as close as he'd ever get to experiencing the opening of Tutankhamun's tomb. The smell of leaf mold filled his nostrils.

"What do you see?" he asked, hardly expecting Billy to get the reference.

"Weird shit," Billy replied, turning to grin at him, shoving the door inward. "Ta-da!"

Joey sniffed and stepped forward, trying to ignore the fact that his stomach was doing flip-flops because Billy was holding the door for him without any shades of mockery. The garden no longer resembled a garden, all knee-high weeds and swimming with insects in the Indian summer haze. The way the light fell through the trees and onto a broken-down wheelbarrow, it might _just_ have passed for gold.

"I wonder what this place was for," Joey murmured, studying the creepers that had overtaken the high brick walls. "Part of the very first Dean's private property, maybe? Someplace quiet to go when he couldn't hear himself think."

"Which at Regis is never," Billy said, carefully shutting the door behind them. He rubbed his nose and frowned, as if something in the air wasn't agreeing with him. "Where's the fucking ragweed? It reeks, and I'm allergic."

Joey forged a few steps ahead, glancing into the former garden's far corners. "Over there," he said. "By the bitter nightshade."

"Bitter _what_? Do we actually have shit like that on this continent?"

Joey pointed to the vine with vaguely star-shaped leaves, bright violet flowers, and small red berries in various stages of development.

"Don't eat those. They'll kill you."

"Are you sure you weren't destined to become a botanist?" Billy asked, by now standing right beside him. "Christ. My eyes are starting to water."

"Roses," Joey said, pointing to the opposite corner. "Look. That wild pinkish kind."

"I don't know one kind of rose from another," replied Billy, following Joey reluctantly. "Except tea roses. Mom keeps those out back in huge pots. They die after she dismisses the landscaping people for the winter."

"Sounds like a nice lady," Joey muttered, reaching absently for one of the few remaining buds. It'd make a good subject for sketching as it opened in the days to come, providing him with at least three or four different studies in shading and contrast. He turned around to find Billy smiling at him again. The flutter came back, only this time oddly defensive. "You got a problem or something?"

"No," said Billy. "It's, um..." He faltered, and then grinned as if tossing all caution to the wind. "Nice to see you happy."

"Is it?" Joey asked. He wanted so fucking badly for this to be _true_.

Billy tapped his forehead. "It's all up here. Too late for you to take it back."

Joey wasn't sure what became of the rosebud when Billy reached for his hand, but he was sure that was the moment when the sun flared brightest, all gold and emeralds through the dying leaves overhead. Tut could keep his fucking treasure. This was _his_.

 

  
**Fondly**  


"Jesus," Phil muttered, running both hands through his hair in agitation. "We're gonna _fry_ for this. Did you really have to write that?"

"Of course," Billy said, shaking the can of spray paint before rounding off the sentence with a confident-looking _N_. "It's the whole point."

Joey surveyed Billy's handiwork— _FUCK THE MAN_ —and thought it could've used a bit more flair. The truth was, if he'd been the one to do it, there would have been no mistaking that the only person in the entire fucking school with any artistic inclination was the perp. That's how Billy had put it, anyway, and since he'd recently grown even more protective of Joey than before, it was...flattering. A huge honor. Maybe even _sweet_. Joey shoved the thought aside and let his hands sink deeper into his pockets.

"Any input?" Phil asked, staring at him pointedly.

"What he said," replied Joey, shrugging. "It's definitely _to_ the point."

Billy handed him the spray paint. "Anything to add? Unrecognizable, of course."

Joey started to shake his head, then thought better of it. He uncapped the can and added an exclamation point that might just as well have been Billy's as his. It was an odd moment for guilt to wash over him, but there was no stopping it. Just because he and Billy were having regular, undiscussed make-out sessions didn't mean he had the right to take advantage of Billy's protection.

Billy's hand fell on his shoulder. "Hey," he said, his voice low. "Are you okay?"

Joey narrowed his eyes, raised the can, and started to draw. Billy deserved someone who was willing to stand beside him, not hide behind him.

 

  
**Mistakenly**  


Halloween was when it all burst wide open, in a confusion of masks and colors out on the quad that they were decidedly _not_ participating in on account of having been busted for the paint job. One second, Joey had been at the window, watching their classmates mill about the refreshment tables, and the next, Billy had told him to leave it the fuck alone already and come help him with his algebra homework. Telling Billy that his algebra could go fuck itself had, in retrospect, been the best fit of unchecked temper Joey had surrendered to in ages. When Billy had grabbed him from behind, he was pretty sure he was about to be punched in the teeth.

Granted, the kiss _had_ been forceful enough.

And now it was nine o'clock in the evening and there was still plenty of noise from outside, which was fortunate, because Phil wouldn't have wanted to participate in _this_. Joey ran his unsteady fingers down one side of Billy's face, temple to chin.

"Not good, huh?" he asked anxiously.

Billy blinked and shifted, as if the weight of the damp sheets that bound them together was suddenly too much to bear.

"Unless you think it was!" added Joey, frantically, wrapping his arms around Billy so he wouldn't be able to escape. "I do. Um. Think it was."

Billy relaxed slightly, the hurt fading to simple confusion.

"You've got to work on the whole giving-me-a-heart-attack thing, okay? Because you give me a lot of 'em."

Joey rolled Billy onto his back and leaned forward till their foreheads touched.

"More or fewer?" Humor had never been his strong suit, but the moment was fragile.

"How about somewhere in between? That shouldn't be too difficult. You know, just for a start." Even though Billy was struggling to bite back a smile, the fear was still there behind his eyes: fading, but present. Fuck, but he'd been _brave_.

"I think that can be arranged," said Joey, gravely, and kissed him.

 

  
**As in Dreams**  


Joey frowned at the cards on the table. The tarot deck had spent years floating around in one of the boxes of his mother's things in the attic. He'd found it the previous year at Christmas, digging around aimlessly in the dusty, claustrophobic space. Holiday breaks in Jersey sucked, but sometimes his games of archaeological make-believe actually turned up something worthwhile.

Joey didn't know anything more complicated than a three-card spread, sort of like an old friend from his public-school days used to do with runes. The Hanged Man had turned up first, mocking him. Billy was stuck in New York at _his_ dad's place and there wasn't a damned thing either of them could do about it. Joey had, out of necessity, grown to love the phone. That morning, they'd talked for three hours.

The Lovers. Joey wasn't sure whether to laugh or roll his eyes at that one.

Strength, on the other hand, gave him pause. The depiction of a fragile-looking young woman with her white hand laid calmly in a lion's gaping jaws was fitting, Joey supposed, but it was always, _always_ vague, never to any point more complicated than the lion's tooth about to pierce the lady's poised and perfect thumb. He swept the cards aside in frustration, slamming down one final draw in their wake.

The Star seldom knew what it was on about, either, but at least it shone in the dark.

 

  
**Seldomly**  


They had survived Christmas break, of course. And they'd actually seen each other over Easter, and the summer had passed in a series of back-and-forth visits that Joey was certain had left the parents on both sides thoroughly perplexed, but _fuck them_.

Back at Regis for two days already, they were stuck with Phil again—but not for another twenty-four hours, and that? Was a godsend. Joey yawned and threw an arm across Billy's bare shoulders. Maybe he'd light a candle in the chapel later as thanks.

"What're you doing up this early?" Billy muttered into the pillow.

"Are you kidding me? It's like ten o'clock. We'll miss breakfast."

"No we won't. Runs till eleven, at least until classes start next week."

Joey considered this revelation carefully. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," said Billy, yawning, rolling slowly under the weight of Joey's arm, until they faced each other. "Says so on the bulletin board downstairs."

"Huh." Joey let his eyes drift shut, sighing as Billy's hand drifted from his hip down to the back of his thigh. "So, who's hungry?"

"Me," Billy said, leaning close. His hand dipped lower, working its way in between Joey's knees. The light scrape of his fingernails tickled.

"Dickwad. _Stoppit_."

"I only do it because I love you."

The silence that drifted between them over the next few seconds was deafening. Joey finally forced his eyes open, only to discover that Billy was looking at him with roughly the same measure of terror that Joey had felt nearly a year ago at Halloween.

 _Should've been the Wheel of Fortune_ , he thought. _Full circle_.

"Is that so?" Joey asked, keeping his voice even.

"Yeah," said Billy, with mild defiance. "I don't say it often enough. I mean, I've never even said it _before_ , but I think you get—"

Yeah. Joey got the point all right, and he'd make them miss breakfast just to prove it.

 

  
**Finally**  


"Try for something profound," Phil said, rubbing his hands together. Last time, he'd gotten off scot free. Why _shouldn't_ he be enjoying this?

"Like what?" Billy asked, tossing his civvies on top of the can of spray paint lying at the bottom of his locker. "Don't look down?"

"More like don't look _up_ ," Joey said, straightening his soccer jersey. "Those squirrels have good aim. Have you ever taken a hickory nut in the eye?"

"O _kay_ ," Phil muttered, slamming his locker shut. "Next option?"

"I was thinking we ought to keep it short and to the point, like last time," said Billy, ignoring the punch Joey delivered to his arm. "Has anybody ever modified the sign outside the front gate so that it accurately reflects this establishment's constituency?"

Phil clapped his hands so hard that the sound echoed through the entire locker room.

"Fucking _brilliant_. See you guys after practice," he said, and left.

Joey folded his arms across his chest and gave Billy a hard look. "Tough target."

"Don't worry," Billy said, tapping his forehead. "It's all up here."

"I'm sure it is," Joey replied, half smiling. "Just like the ragweed?"

"If you like," Billy said. "What would you write? I mean, what if it really _was_ meant to be profound? If anyone in the universe could read it?"

Joey thought for a second, staring at his shoes. "I'd tell my mom not to worry. Why?"

"I really did see it," Billy said, tilting Joey's chin back up. " _Don't look down_. I remember thinking, shit, that's about right, isn't it?"

"But _Rejects School_ has a nicer ring to it," Joey reassured him. "Come on. Ric's gonna bust our asses if we're not out there in five."

Billy mimed damsel-like distress. "You're so far _away_ , down there guarding the net, and I'm shit at driving in goals. I hardly get to see you."

"Come _on_ , loser," Joey repeated, seizing him by the shoulders and pushing him toward the door. "I have the distinct feeling we'll meet again."

Billy cast him a sly backward glance. "Is that so?"

 _Strength_ , Joey thought, smiling at the memory, and steered him out into the light.


End file.
